Letters to Dylan
by a.teenage.vow
Summary: A rough patch of Evy's life, she goes off the deep end. A series of letters she writes to Dylan, all ending in the same line. But I'm still sorry you died.
1. Chapter 1

Dear Dylan,

This is stupid.

I feel like a dork.

I probably am.

Okay, I'm talking to myself while writing a letter to you. Definitely a dork.

Or maybe crazy.

Possibly both.

Arguing with myself while writing to you now, so definitely both.

But back to the point, wait, what was the point? Oh, right -

Do you realize how you seem to be the only thing to capture my attention? Do you wonder how you saving my life on a daily basis effects me? Or do you simply not think about me when you're not around me? I hope for the first two but I know it's the last. I know because you always come home smelling like cheap perfume and martinis. You come home out of it, high off of that rush and still drunk. I have to put you back together after you smashed yourself to bits. I can't let Cady see you like that. It'd kill her. It kills me more but I have to do it. I have to be the strong one. Cady isn't but she never tries to be. You're the strong one but you pretend you're not, you make me be strong. I wonder if you're looking out for me or if you just hate being the one that has things to do. So I end up being the one pretending to be strong, hiding behind my sarcasm and dirty looks.

You don't see me, not really. You buy my act just like everyone else. You don't get that it kills me every time you pat me on top of the head or pretend to flirt with me just because you're bored. You don't understand how my stomach feels like it's imploding every time you talk to another girl in front of me, saying how _proud_ you are of me. Using our cover of me being your sister to land some other girl in bed. I remember that one time Cady got pissed and kicked me out of our bed. I almost slept on the couch but after about five seconds my neck and back were killing me, I tried the floor (I swear I did) but that was no good either. Eventually I wound up in your bed, tail between my legs and severely in need of sleep, but you didn't mind. You let me stay in your bed that night, if only because you pitied me. I didn't care though, my mind flew a million different places that next morning. In those few fleeting seconds when you first wake up before your brain and memory catch up with you. I got to pretend. Got to forget that you really don't care for me at all. That you don't see me.

Cady says that you care for me. I'm sure she's right about that. You wouldn't keep me around if you didn't have some attachment to me. But it's like our cover story. I'm the kid sister that you look after. You're the heroic big brother watching out for me after our mom and dad died. I care about you more though. You'd never know, I never tell. Cady seems like she could be catching on, so now I have to be more careful. I can't smell your shirts anymore before I throw them in the wash. Or play your guitar when you're not around. I can't wear that one jacket you always seem to forget when you go out when I need to 'run out really quick' when really I don't have anywhere to go. I just want to walk around with that fantasy that you gave me the jacket.

This is stupid.

I'm stupid.

I'm fucking self centered too 'cause this letter says 'I' about every five seconds.

I'm still fucking saying 'I'.

I can't stop.

Damn it.

If I'm going to keep talking about myself then I'll just stop this letter now.

But I'm still sorry that you died.


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Dylan,

I think Cady's worried about me. She keeps giving me funny looks. And she keeps asking me if I'm okay, if I need anything. Before the accident she didn't give a shit if I needed anything. I was the one to worry about her. Now I get why she was always saying how annoying I was. Maybe I should be easier on her from now on. I think you'd keep being tough on her, make sure she kept her nose clean. So I guess I'll stay tough on her. For you.

God, this is so hard.  
Did you think that it'd be hard when you came to get me?  
Did you know what was going to happen?  
Couldn't you have just let that demon have me? It would've been so much more easy then this.

Now I just sit here, listening to my music. The people next door complain to Cady about it, they say that I play it too loud. I don't play it loud enough though, the speakers won't go any louder. I can still hear you screaming, that machine that you were hooked to flat lining, I can hear them timing your death in their calm voices. It was like they didn't care. You were nothing special to them. I wasn't even allowed to stay with you. They dragged me out, said they needed to fix my leg. I wish I could've stayed, leg or no damn leg. They knocked me out once they had me on a gurney, that helped the pain a little.

It was twice as worse as I woke up though. Now I'd have to recover without you. There wouldn't be anyone to tease me about being a cripple. No one to give me tasks that were impossible in my state. No one to write and draw obscene things on my cast and then blame them on me in public. No one to go with me to the doctor when they finally sawed that piece of shit off. I was all alone. And it hurt to realize that. More then any pain meds could help.

I wish that you left me with that demon.  
I wish you listened to me and stayed with Cady.

But I'm still sorry that you died.


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Dylan,

I finally opened that box that the hospital sent to us. After three months.

The clothes are in shreds and covered in blood. I know the blood is from you getting blasted after me but I don't know if the shreds are from that too or from when the doctors cut them off you. It doesn't matter to me though because now I can't pretend. I can't pretend that you're coming back anymore. Now I have proof that it wasn't a nightmare, that it really happened. I can't tell myself stories anymore. Can't deny it. I can't yell at Cady anymore, I can't tell her that she's lying. She's not. I'm just kidding myself.

It still hurts.

I don't even know why. I got used to it, the pain. The way it felt to be so obsessed with you and have you not even care. That pain that made my insides heat like lava and my skin prickle like I had needles pressing into me. You didn't even love me back. So why am I losing my mind with you gone? It's not any different. Not like I'm going to miss any kisses, or waking up next to you, or anything at all. Nothing's changed, not really. I've just snapped. That's what you do to me, always have, you make me **crazy.**

Your necklace and bracelets are in the box. Your sunglasses too, but they're broken and cracked beyond repair. I wanted to put everything on that was in the box, just drown in everything you left behind. But I can't. You left them like that and I have to keep them that way. I can't touch them, ruin them. You always wanted things a certain way, so I'm leaving them. For you.

Cady still has your guitar, she always leaves it on the bed. We still book rooms with two beds in them, at first it was out of habit. It hurt a lot when I realized that that bed would be empty. But I didn't go to fill it, I just cringed in our bed and cried. Cady pretended that I wasn't crying, she knew that I was ashamed. We don't talk about you. We barely talk at all. Just when she says she's going out and when she says we're moving to the next hotel. I don't even know what she does or where she goes, I just know that she's leaving the room. She could die too, leave me alone in this world. Just like you did. You broke me, Dylan. You made me go insane, I think. I can't stop the feeling that I'm falling apart. It feels like I can't breathe, like someone has a cinder block on my stomach and they're pressing it down, slowly. So slowly that at first, I barely noticed it. I thought I was getting better, then, I was getting worse again. Now I don't even know. I can't sleep without reliving that night. I can't go out without being reminded of you, and then that night again. I'm crazy. I hope you're happy.

But I'm still sorry that you died.


	4. Chapter 4

Dear Dylan,

I forgot to set the player to repeat today when I put in a new CD. The music stopped playing. I nearly stopped breathing. It was deadly silent for a few seconds before I felt it crushing down around me, pressing until I couldn't bear it. I wanted to scream, wanted Cady to come and help, but I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. It made me feel like I was dying.

Maybe I am, wouldn't that be funny?

You died to save me but now I'm dying without you. I'm insane now.

Being in pain, being jealous, dying a tiny bit by having you around - I'd kill for what used to kill me.

At least then I felt something. Now I'm not even sad anymore. I'm just numb. I'd welcome that pain of your death back, at least then I would be connected to you somehow. Now it's like it never happened, except in my dreams. Cady never talks about you, about the accident.

I never did tell you what happened to me after the accident, did I? Not that I'd need to tell you, you don't care. You're dead. And even if you do care, and you're a ghost now, you're probably pissed beyond belief and I should be pulling out salt rather then explaining this to you. But I'll just pretend again, like I always do these days…

My legs don't look anything alike anymore. One is covered in scars, it's all funny when you touch it, almost like the skin is cold and wet all the time. I don't like it. It's a living reminder that you died for me. That I'm still here all alone. And you're never coming back for me. Ever.

Does that mean I have to go out and find you? If you won't find me, can I find you? Can I go looking for you? Are you around? Probably not. I'm probably just another crazy that broke when the person they were obsessing over died. Cady will probably throw me in an asylum soon. Out of pity. I'm no help to her. I don't even know what she needs help with. I don't know if she's hunting. Hell, she could be a prostitute now for all I know. …I hope she isn't.

If I can't get better - can't feel something - soon then I'm coming after you. And I'll be damned if you don't want me. I'm still stubborn as hell so you can suck it up and deal with it.

And I'm still sorry that you died.


	5. Chapter 5

Dear Dylan,

Cady found some of my letters, I think. I don't know for sure, she didn't say, but I'm pretty sure she did. She looks at me differently now, like I'm crazy.

I guess it's official now.

But I'm still sorry that you died.


End file.
